'That wasn't wise, for nothing could come of it but noise,' Terence said, shaking his head at his old mentor. 'This is the time not for talk, but action.' 'It may happen,' returned the other gently, 'that the boys of action may come to need the help of a silver tongue--after all! I know not for certain how far ye're in it, Terence; and it's best I shouldn't know. Any way, I'm glad ye're not like your brother, who's a half-caste in character, more than half Englishman. You, at any rate, are not ashamed,' he continued slily, 'of going to _tay_ with your mammy, or of perambulating by the _say_ with a colleen asthore! I wish ye'd keep clear of this, though.' 'Would you have had me stand by--a _man_--a cold spectator of events? Would you have me show the white feather now, when so many have been kidnapped? No--I know you would not,' Terence said, looking in the little lawyer's eyes (into which the tears started) with a hand placed on either shoulder. Curran said nothing for a few moments, then, blowing his nose, whispered rapidly: 'If there's naught to be gained by noise, my boy, still less will foolhardiness avail us. Why will you wear that gorgeous scarf of green? If you are to do man's work, do not act like a baby. There's only you and Cassidy left now to give directions to the country delegates. I don't know much, and it's not my business; but I can see now the tail of the Erin-go-bragh order sparkling within your vest. Two hands fraternally gripped. How lamentably childish, when so much may depend on you! Erin's cause will be none the less well served, I warrant, for fewer gewgaws on the persons of her sons. Too much green ribbon, Terence! Every man among you sports a green ribbon, and has some compromising paper in his pocket! Why, here's a roll in yours. For shame!' 'That's the military plan,' Terence returned, 'which I was to have shown to-day to our friends. It was a mercy, certainly, that you detained me here, or else----' 'You would have fallen a sacrifice to overweening prudence! Therein lies Erin's curse. Her sons are faithful enough, and earnest enough; but they're all impractical and scatter-brained.' 'Faithful, are they?' echoed Terence, mournfully. 'So many traitors walk among us, that no one can swear any day whether he's like to sleep or hang at night!' 'Traitors!' repeated Curran between his teeth, as he turned his head. 'Yes. Traitors galore! There walks the arch-traitor. Lucifer among his cohorts.' Lord Clare was coming up the steps towards the lobby of the House of Commons, surrounded by a bevy of obsequious gentlemen who had rushed round to the 'Lords' entrance,' in Westmoreland Street, to warn the chancellor that dreadful things were happening. His hatchet face wore an evil expression which, melting away, gave place to beaming looks when he perceived before him his hated enemy.